


it's not the end of the world

by Black, smooshkin



Series: KingSlayer [7]
Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 12:43:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11783409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black/pseuds/Black, https://archiveofourown.org/users/smooshkin/pseuds/smooshkin
Summary: but Panchaea hurts.





	it's not the end of the world

**Author's Note:**

> this one was really intense during the actual writing, our muses were feeling A Way(tm).  
> the rps after this one leap into Blacklight and MD so those will be fun :3c looking forward to posting them. 
> 
> Smoosh starts with David first, I come in with Jensen second.

= * =

David stepped aside, passing Hugh. He exchanges some glance with him. This was it. If anyone could turn this around, it was his buddy Hugh. Things were looking up, looking up, looking up. Thank you.  
  
"Thank you David. Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Sarif here has asked me to show the world how human enhancement technology can change it. After careful deliberation, I've decided I must do exactly that."  
  
Hugh had always been a strange man, but not that strange. David's expression drops in soft confusion.  
  
"Forgive me."  
  
Something sick drops in his heart and thoughts fire zero-to-sixty in a second.  
  
And that was all it took. Hugh is turning away and the room erupts into violent chaos. David can hear the signal- like a small insect threatening to burrow into the brain.  
  
And yet, he was sane. Woefully, disturbingly sane.  
  
He immediately bails his back against the wall and watches the complete madness unfold. He wouldn't be able to linger here-- He chances a glance toward Hugh.  
  
They exchanged another glance. Get out of here, David. I'm sorry.  
  
No time to consider what Hugh has done to him. Them. Everyone. A scream pierces his hearing and he nearly swallows his heart as he's hit with a blunt force- grip on his arm.

"Oh- God! What's happen-" A woman in a suit is screaming at him- wild eyes on the chaos- the- oh, my god- the blood!  
  
David grabs her arms and hurriedly pushes her along the wall of offices that surrounded the watch-floor.  
  
He tells her they need to hide. Find anyone not currently spiraling into a blood-soaked frenzy. Easier said than done. He can tell his voice soothes her. She stopped crying soon after. They find more men and women, mostly natural, unaffected.  
  
David wasn't sure how he managed to stay calm but, wide-eyed and heart racing, his blood was anything but. Maybe it was the shock.  
  
The halls of the complex were like a horror game. Monsters (he felt guilty for the comparison) lurked around every corner, spinning into a rage upon seeing them-- David and- What was his name- a man from Isolay named Ricardo that David found to be the bravest of his 'crew' would need to herd everyone in a hurry into any office they could find- bail the door shut and wait. And wait.  
  
Some would sob. Some would nurse their injuries they'd collected.  
  
There had been a panicked moment in which they descended a few levels down and away from the catastrophe- David glanced one way and a bullet came from the other; Lodging into his chest. Ricardo quickly leaped to his aid before he could fall.

It had turned out to be a military woman- Major Nellis, he thinks?- terrified upon seeing David and his augmented arm. She didn't stop apologizing for an hour.  
  
She didn't apologize to the poor crazed men and women she had to kill as they made their way through the complex. David tried not to look. He was being reminded of he and Adam's trip to Paris-  
  
Oh god. As he clutches a hand over his heart. It was the bullet. They'd taken it out, of course.  
  
"There's not much left we can use on the door, Mr. Sarif."  
  
"Yeah." He winces. "Alright- well- We'll hold out as best as we can. Someone's gotta hear about this. So unless anyone here knows how to pilot a submersible, sit tight."  
  
He catches his breath in his throat, finally realizing he was in pain. He lifts his synthetic arm to touch his forehead, confirming he was bleeding from somewhere over his hairline. He thinks he remembered getting hit there with something in a frenzied panic.  
  
Nevermind the dozens of bruises he was sure he had and that he was just endlessly out of breath from quick dodges and now-mapped hallways.  
  
He wondered where Hugh was. He even wondered where Taggart was. He glanced around him and decided that he would have helped Taggart if he'd seen him. Suddenly they were all thrust into this together.  
  
A communal nightmare delivered in the space of a second.

He ended up closing his eyes to (painfully) sigh, squeezing his fingers over the laceration he'd gotten on his natural one. It hurt. It did.  
  
Who would want this? However, he did insist their only medical supplies (the ones they managed to snag in a hurry), be used on everyone else. Ricardo insisted, at least, on getting his bullet wound under control. Major Nellis insisted too. He relented.  
  
His head was dizzy. He wondered where Adam was. The rush of adrenaline had finally worn off to the point where he could almost cry from the mosaic of blood and violence that he was trying not to think about.  
  
The implications. How this might be reflected in the eyes of the world.  
  
Oh- but where is Adam! Please... Tell me he hasn't gone mad.

 

= * =

 

Adam Jensen is caught between the sun and the sea;  
  
Panchaea is a burning hell hole and the world is clawing itself apart at the seams and there’s gore littering homes and streets and there’s blood bubbling from manholes  and -

Sarif,  
he needs to find Sarif, he thinks as he --  
  
finds bodies in the rooms upon dropping from a vent, scattered in hallways, floating face down in water and the gentle step of his feet sends the man to sway. sway. gentle against the metal floor he had gazed upon in death.  
  
These bodies are armed.  
Heavily.  
Adam feels a greasy sickness swirl in his gut. Something he wants to vomit up. Everything is eerily quiet now that he’s turned the electricity off - the water no longer crackles and he is alone.  
  
There’s debris everywhere that he’s picking up, throwing. climbing over. sinking. sinking. something doesn’t feel right. something feels far too heavy; his throat is thick with something hot as he climbs a ladder and pulls himself up to another dead floor. silent.  
  
bodies bent against walls, struck uneven over objects and weapons and. he runs up the stairs - no time to waste. People needed him, people _needed_ him.  
  
The alarm blares, a racket in his ears that  
rattles down his spine. The yellow light tinges orange in his eyes. rolling. rolling. There’s fire, fire, hot as he dodges past and he’s skirting past orange, flaring lights. pushing aside containers. he doesn’t know what he’s going to find.  
  
An elevator for one,  
and comfort in Pritchard’s voice, for another.  
  
Confirmed: He needs to go down - the signals nestled at the bottom of the ocean and dear icarus - have you not yet learned to swim?  
  
why are you nervous?

He rumbles out of the elevator into a hallway and he, pauses. at the window. glances blankly at the bodies near, the sick small of copper and iron cooling over their skin. Hell looms over the horizon - the world is crumbling on itself and the storm rages beyond his control.  
  
he moves forward.  
  
There’s bodies.  
With stories.  
They were trying to escape.  
  
Torn apart.  
  
A screech echoes; metallic in nature. the goosebumps pebble his skin.  
  
but he moves forward.  
  
He crawls through a vent.  
Finds a muttering man, crazed. pressed into a corner and holding his head and repeating _i dont want it i dont want it i dont want it_ and Adam can feel the mantra skitter through his head. he can hear the soft buzz.  
  
everything is warbled and muddled -  
  
He needs to find Sarif.  
His anger mounts.  
  
Up and up.  
Dizzying.  
The smoke and the blood and the alloy and  
  
…  
  
He finds Hugh, first.  
  
Frankenstein.  
Daedalus.  
  
What’s the difference?  
Both took their hands and created something godly - a gift. breathed life into the fallen and then left them to their fate.  
  
He’s numb through it all - all the accusations. Hugh tells him he can see the hatred for what he’s become in his eyes.  
  
…  
  
Adam disengages the lock down.  
As Hugh slumps in his seat and is eaten bitter with regret. Adam takes a moment to watch him. To watch a sad, sad misguided man hate all that he’s made, all that he’s built with his own two hands.  
  
People like me.  
Isn’t that right, Hugh?  
  
He stands in front of the podium and looks about the room. The smears of blood and the gore stuck to seats. a limb. Everything is burning orange, the sun an angry ball of blood beyond his back, beyond the sea.  
  
“ _Forgive me, David._ ”

He moves forward.  
He takes comfort in Pritchard’s voice, again.  
The feeling fades as Pritchard tells him he’s on his own.  
  
_Careful, Pritchard._  
  
Adam is alone when he fizzles out, limbs heavy but he’s. moving. moving. past the living bodies that jerk and creep and curl. hands clawed and twitching like monsters. they’re wailing, sobbing. Adam can’t see their eyes, but he fears they may be aware. awake. caught in the claws of beasts. prickling their brains, scraping back and  
  
they’re pleading. pleading.  
  
their voices are muzzy.  
  
He moves forward.  
  
Taggart comes next -  
Taggart calls him a monster.  
  
Taggart’s words are a heat that balls heavy under his teeth. He mentions Sarif and Adam bristles. bristles. Holds his tongue. Common principles, Mr Jensen. Join us. We can end this, we can regulate this!  
  
…  
  
Adam leaves him, bitter.  
  
  
A snarl rumbling in his throat as he creeps past his own people. augs. flexing and whirring and screaming and they’re trying to pull them off they’re trying to tear each other apart tear naturals apart tear  
  
the world at the seams.  
  
Sarif’s voice rings true and he’s pleading and  
The machine room  
  
He moves forward.  
  
Adam swings himself up into a vent and takes a moment to pause. breathe. The metal dips slightly either the weight of his twitching fingers, the absolute second-hand agony that has wormed it’s way into his head. He closes his eyes and squeezes them for a moment before opening them.  
  
The nightmare is still real. hellish and living. teeth gnashed in some crazed laugh.  
  
He catches sight of Sarif as he pushes through the vent, sighing in relief at _he’s alive_ he’s fucking alive and -- he swallows tight. shivering as he crawls through and his feet hit the ground. A whirl of emotions - relief being the one to boil over.

“Sarif,” he’s holding his arms out, “Fuck, _David_ .”  
He’s got the heat of a sun boiling under his teeth; faced with two men that thought to place the world in his hands. That thought he could be Atlas --  
  
Adam hadn’t told them he already had a world to hold, and he was desperate to make sure it hadn’t crumbled, yet - he places hands on David, shoulders easing in selfish relief.

 

= * =

 

Things went quiet. Everyone decided that maybe-- maybe it would be safe to call for help. That it wouldn't bring a horde of blood-craze to their door.  
  
And so David called. And called.  
  
He turned to look back at his motley little crew, hunched over each other and tending wounds, tending minds. He's pretty sure the woman from Caiden is at the end of her proverbial rope and was now crying silently into her hands.  
  
David's brows knit into a frown.  
  
And then- someone managed to find a way past their barricade and it's--  
  
"A-Adam!" He gasped- and he's immediately turning to be upon him- grabbing him by the forearms and- Oh, it's not enough-- he had spent too many cumulative seconds imagining the other mad, sea-bound or dead. Shot or torn apart and--  
  
The relief warranted more than he could verbalize and gives him a rough pull in- squeezing him around the ribs, any pain in his own body forgotten. Even the throb in his chest.  
  
"Thank god." He breathes. "I'm so glad to see you." He admits, tired. Exhausted. Relieved. He could _almost_ cry.  
  
"You hurt?"  
  
He wants to ask him what's happened. How'd you get here? What have you seen? Was it as terrible to you? Are you scared too?

He'd let him go- keep a grip on his arms. He stares at Adam in a bewildered kind of way for a moment before his eyes catch and refocus. He quickly turns and pulls his suit together and buttons it, having undone most of his layers to seal up the shot from poor Major Nellis.  
  
"Listen--Adam, I've got wounded here-- Is the way clear? We gotta get them attention before coming back for the rest."  
  
He surveys the numbers. About a dozen. He could say he's saved a dozen.  
  
But how many more are butchered outside the doors, David? Skin torn, limbs broken and how many of them are dead?  
  
"It's bad, isn't it, Adam?" He mutters. "This place lit up like a fuckin' daisy chain-- If it was this bad here..."  
  
Imagine Paris. Europe. America. Home. Imagine the world. Would the ocean be red when he stepped out?  
  
"Adam-...?" He turns, hands dropping to his sides to regard the other. Talk to me.  
  
Please.

 

= * =

 

“ _David_ ,” he mutters again as Sarif grabs his forearms and then, hesitates. pauses as if he’s thinking and then he pulls him into a tight hug.  
  
He glances around and meets a couple terrified faces.  
A pair of bloodshot eyes, red from the tears that will no longer come. but she still tries. she still tries. He can’t blame her. The shiny red gore is enough to make the average person sick - she probably saw someone get torn apart. bit into.  
  
Adam sighs terse through his nose and pulls David close to his chest, resting a cheek on top of his head for a moment and finding the shudder of relief rolling over him. “I’m happy to see you too,” He admits softly and brings a hand up to run fingers through his hair, bumping their heads together before pulling away from him gently.  
  
To look over him.  
  
He frowns at the blood and as David’s wild eyes catch his, he tries to reach for it, “No, but you are.”  
  
Though he turns to quick to button the suit back up - Classic Sarif. He could almost smile at the notion if the room wasn’t so heavy. if his shoulders weren’t so heavy. Adam swallows tight and flexes his hands. squeezing gentle at first, and then tight. releasing.  
  
“We can’t move anyone yet - not til I get to the basement and shut down Darrow’s broadcast,” he pauses, “Everything you’ve seen here - it’s everywhere David. The illuminati created a biochip that stops people from using enhanced abilities.”  
  
and he gives another short, angered sigh, “Darrow turned it into a kill switch.”  
  
Adam Jensen falls quiet.  
He thinks of how many ghosts will haunt him now - how many name he won’t come to know. faceless. faceless. blurred and angry, tucked tight to his shoulders and - he shifts his weight to one leg and looks at David. _really_ looks at him.

He hopes David looks back.  
He hopes David doesn’t see a dead man walking.  
  
…  
  
“It’s...bad.” Adam folds his arms over his chest and he fixates on David’s blood soaked fabric, “It’s all over the place, Sarif. Augmented people are suffering, and they’re going to suffer for a long time after this.” he brings a hand up to squeeze at the base of his neck as he thinks.  
  
he closes his eyes slowly, “I have...to get down there to turn that broadcast off. It’s the only way to stop this.”

 

= * =

 

David visibly relaxes just that little bit more as Adam returns the gesture. Returns with a bump to the head.  
  
His face goes warm. And they let go.  
  
"It's nothing. Already taken care of." He says, half-lying, regarding his own injuries.  
  
Adam continues. And-- His suspicions were correct.  
  
"What-?" He frowns. He still can't believe it, though.  
  
"Ah- My god...Hugh." He's... disappointed. He'd trusted Darrow to chase away the dissent. Put an end to the fucking _nightmare_ that they'd been calling the last few months.  
  
So. Even Hugh could be turned away from the dream. Of all people. Even Hugh could betray them all. Oh, Hugh.  
  
Well- I won't be turned.

  
He glances at Adam then and, for a moment, feels like he was his only ally left. His eyes narrow and he frowns.  
  
'It's...bad.'  
  
David swallows. "Oh, god- Adam..." He ambles a few steps closer. He looks at the ground- at their feet a few inches apart. The world was inches from burning apart; Threads of sanity burning on contact with the sun.  
  
"This is a disaster... If the world catches wind of what happened--" He takes Adam's arm in a gentle grip, an entreat. "If they believe augmentation technology is to blame for this chaos-- You better believe the UN will shut down human enhancement research forever!"

Adam, you understand, don't you? I know you do. You know what's at stake.  
  
"Adam--" He pleads. But he doesn't know what he wants to see or hear. He stares a moment before letting his weight crash into Adam's side. He rests his head on his shoulder.  
  
He knows if anyone can stop it, it's Adam. The only one he can trust anymore. He heaves a sigh. "Alright-- I... Yeah- this isn't over yet." He leans back and, wiping some blood from his temple, adds;  
  
"I can go with you- gimme a gun. We shut down that signal and... get a message out. We-- We pin this on Humanity Front."  
  
Sorry, Taggart.  
  
"Tell them that their doctors created a virus that only affects augmented people."  
  
A good plan. He gives Adam a look of expectancy.

 

= * =

 

“That doesn’t look like nothing.”  
  
Adam is stiff, a little gruff as he tries to reach over and look again, becoming a bit frustrated when he isn’t allowed to look at the wound. His fingers curl in on themselves and he knows David is trying to downplay his own injuries in an attempt to make it appear as if he’s okay. as if he can still help, can still move forward.  
  
A frown.  
  
He knows David is injured to a point in which that’s not possible. He can tell just by his body language - a tad jerky and sore. Adam wonders if it’s been punctured by something, or shot. It reminds him a lot of Paris.  
  
Oh, Paris.  
  
He wonders if Salvatore is okay.  
  
The way David says Darrow’s name, Adam feels his shoulders drop a bit. The tension warbles - They obviously had a close history. He knew that they were friends - but to see and hear of such a betrayal? It even made him uneasy, uncomfortable. Hugh Darrow had just dragged David Sarif’s name through the mud, and it would be no easy feat to wash it off.  
  
If he even could, at all.  
  
The world is already on fire Sarif, already feathering apart under the heat.  
It would take a miracle to cool her off - even then, she may have already sputtered too far into the ocean.  
  
David says his name and then  
seeks comfort in his side; Adam returns the gesture to him in a whole-hearted, gentle squeeze. Not wanting to jostle whatever wound too much. But  
  
Adam furrows his brows as he listens to David’s words - his tongue sits strange in his mouth and he shivers on a tight swallow. “You mean, lie.” He pulls back to give Sarif a concerned look, something bothered, “You’re not going with me.”  
  
is the first thing he says, and motions to the fabric, “Second, Why would I lie about something like that?”  
  
He didn’t favor Taggart either but to pin something so horrid on a single man --  
Especially one who, Adam had to admit, was wholly innocent in this insidious plot, “I don’t know if I can do that, Sarif.”

 

= * =

 

"Damnit, Adam. It's nothing." He brings an arm up over himself to block any attempt at looking at his injuries. It was difficult. But he needed Adam to listen, not fuss over him.  
  
He still manages to glower at the floor, dejected over Darrow's betrayal for as long as he allowed himself to be.  
  
He'd looked up suddenly when Adam called it lying. Stepped back.  
  
David feels an ice pick of dread needle his spine for a second. Lying was a point of contention between them still, was it? But he's gotta understand!  
  
"D-! Damnit, Adam!" He frowns. "Just to buy us time! Time enough to figure out how to destroy the Illuminati's biochips and move on!"  
  
He huffs.  
  
"Adam, please... You have to stay with me on this. Because-- Because we can't let some misguided morality stop us from achieving the freedom we need to become more than we are-- We're gonna have to leave some people behind. That's the reality... Evolution. I know you understand what's at stake here.."  
  
"We could lose everything." He could lose everything. If humanity was turned against their own potential, it could take hundreds of years to make this kind of progress again.  
  
Ohhh..! The thought filled him with such panic!  
  
And his eyes suddenly go wide when he realizes Adam had also just told him he wasn't going with him--  
  
"W-wait? Adam! Damnit! Is it because of--?" He looks down at his own bloody shirt and back up.  
  
"Please- You're-... Don't make me watch you go after...After all this. I'd- lose--" He cuts himself off quite abruptly and swallows, jaw tightening.  
  
" _Please._ "  
  
Please do as I ask. Please don't go. Please.

 

= * =

 

“Yeah, evolution based on my DNA.”  
  
He furrows his brows and crosses his arms over his chest - the words leave him a bit bitterly. Though they aren’t directly specifically at David. His eyes color troubled, he focuses on the ground below them as he swallows tight around his tongue and takes this all in.  
  
There’s so much at stake.  
  
...but did the people hurt not deserve the truth?  
...but did _he_ not deserve the truth?  
  
There’s something heavy in his chest; it wails a dying sound. Adam can already feel the pressure from the ocean drumming in his ears.  
  
You’ve got no remorse about using me at all, do you?  
...that’s not true.  
This is David, you’ve been safe with him. He’s made mistakes - he’s apologized to you. He’s been honest.  
  
Oh, Adam.  
You poor, tired thing.  
  
He tugs the jacket around him and exists alone on some plane of reality far, far away from here. entangled. His eyes are muzzy, fuzzy, and a little sad. “David, I don’t _want_ to leave you.”  
  
No, no he can’t go. He has to stay.  
Adam has a chewing suspicion that there’s aug eating beasts that rest below their feet. Even if Sarif wasn’t injured, there was no possible way the man could keep up _and_ stay out of the way.  
  
He closes his eyes at _please_ and sighs short through his nose, opening them a few moments later after he’s had a moment, “David,” he says soft, “These people need you here. I can take care of the signal, and be back up again to take you home.” The promise fills him with dread -  
  
Adam, stop it.  
  
“You _can’t_ come with me, David. I’m sorry.”  
And he is, he is sorry, he doesn’t want to leave Sarif in the wake of all this madness. He wants to be able to carry him off, like Paris. He wants to tell him to yes, yes stick close. please stick close. I’m afraid of them.

 

= * =

 

David had gone quiet at the revelation. Adam had... a point. It was his DNA. His voice should be at the forefront of any "decision-making" in this field and yet history, having it's eyes on them, gently reminded that incipient progress was always made without asking permission from those it might hurt.  
  
David agreed with history.  
  
"I hope you-- Understand. Why I did it."  
  
He looks down at Adam's feet and frowns. 'I don't _want_ to leave you' sounded a lot like 'I'm leaving without you' and David gently grabs him by the arm.  
  
He said nothing at first. But he does eventually bring himself to look at him anxiously. Any residual shame hastily covered in fear.  
  
Adam sighs; David's shoulders drop defeatedly while he tells him again that he's not going with.  
  
"Adam-...Mmph- I..." He gives a conquered look back at the floor, his grip loosening.  
  
A thousand images of him speared, shot, bloody and dead cross his mind-- all incidents having taken place out of his view. He couldn't stop it.  
  
Adam was always the one diving into the fire when the fire needed sacrifices. So- Once more unto the breach, was it-?  
  
"But I can-" His voice was mostly all breath. He hated that- it was an accident. He clears his throat.  
  
"Alright... Okay- Alright, I-.. I get it. I'm just--"

He felt, infuriatingly, his eyes well.  
Was he losing him again?  
Irrationally, he wonders if he said the wrong thing and this was punishment.  
  
He tries to pull Adam closer, ignoring the burn in his left side and- hugs. He takes a breath- shuddering.  
  
"Come back, Adam." He sniffs. "You don't know what's down there, and... Son, I need you."  
  
Sighing, he buries his face in his neck, desperate to feel like the man was wholly on his side. Despite everything. "Please don't be upset with me- I... Just promise me you'll do the right thing an- and come back to me."  
  
He doesn't let go.

 

= * =

 

Adam knew understanding wasn’t the important issue at hand, right now.  
  
Did he?  
Yes.  
  
His DNA was a marvel - he knows what it’s use could mean for humanity. He knows all the good it can kickstart, he knows what progress it could make. He also has the aching thought of  
all the harm it could possibly cause in the wrong hands.  
  
who does have hands on him right now?  
the illuminati?  
Megan?  
  
how many have dipped into him without his knowledge?  
  
the thought leaves him bitter - he swallows it for another time.  
  
Megan...why didn’t you just ask?  
  
David’s fingers curl around his arm and Adam's eyes flicker down to look, tongue awkward in his mouth as the silence befalls them. he drags the tip of it across the back of his teeth and lives in that sensation for a moment, looking up at the same time David does.  
  
He shouldn’t have.  
  
Adam doesn’t know how to describe the caving of his chest under those fear bitten eyes. David Sarif looks as if he’s fallen, draped over the ocean’s surface with water-logged wings weakly beating. pitiful. flailing. failing to understand.  
  
I hope you understand.  
  
Adam is anxious to what he’ll find below - none of the thoughts are pleasant and all end the same. The unruly blackness of the unknown, writhing and sobbing pitifully against it’s own weight. collapsing. something is alive.  
he doesn’t know who.  
  
“You can’t,” he stops the thought gently before it can begin. David says he gets it, he understands. Adam questions if he really does - or if he’s just caving under the pain, the frustration. the shock.  
  
He’s pulled closer, near. a desperate thing. so he returns it, encircles an arm around him and moves to slide his other up, fingers curling soft against his cheek and stroking against the scruff. His head finds his neck and Adam closes his eyes at the words, unaware of the eyes that have fallen upon their intimate embrace.(edited)

“I’ll come back,” it catches in his teeth, though he is sincere. his look softens at David's words. For all the ruin in the world, Adam can’t help but to think Sarif’s desperate plea may haunt him far more than whatever awaits him below. He moves his fingers to hook under David’s chin - tilting the man’s head up to his and pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. and then once against to his lips.  
  
He bumps their foreheads together and stills - Adam lets the humanity, the lover linger in his eyes for a moment longer before he’s pulling away, the lens sliding over them now as they sharpen.  
  
Adam passes Major Nellis on his way to the vent, a heaviness lodged in his shoulders. He doesn’t know of her name, her rank, what she’s done,  
but he leaves her with a passing whisper.  
  
Brief, but colored cold.  
  
“Don’t let him wait on me - evacuate if necessary.”

 

= * =

 

David puffs out a sigh from his nose any time Adam tapped down his desire to follow.  
  
He did eventually give up. He'd let Adam have his way, assuaged in part by the gentle hand on his face. He squeezes it against his shoulder, having only one woeful pair of hands with which to hold him.  
  
David grunts his assent when Adam promises to come back and only fights the fingers on his chin for a moment because he hadn't wanted the man to see his distress.  
  
He can't help it; can't remember the last time it happened. Crying. It's only made worse when Adam-- kisses him.  
  
Fuck. He pinches his eyes shut, unable to look devotion in the face- immediately regretting what it did to the tears collected there that he hadn't allowed to fall.  
  
The room couldn't help but glance at the exchange while it took place. They all knew David. And while many didn't know Adam by name, they all knew Adam. Some were too tired to express surprise. The man from Isolay ran a bruised hand through his own hair as is perplexed.  
  
They could all relate to what they saw, however, even if they couldn't hear every word.  
  
He would have been embarrassed had he not first been in despair.  
  
They bump their heads together- something David was always compelled to do when he wanted Adam to understand his own devotion. A heavy sigh and he opens his eyes as he felt him begin to pull away.  
  
He glares intently forward for a moment, tightening his grip for an extra second against him before he simply had to relent.

He keeps a grip on his arms as he pulls away- fingers hooking around Adam's wrists before he lets go with a near-silent 'I love ya, son.'  
  
His legs are stiff and he desperately wanted to turn away so he wouldn't have to watch him go. Wouldn't have to watch his back, not knowing if he'd come back or not.  
  
David knows Adam can do it. But would he die in the process?  
  
He manages to tear himself away from the view and watch the room instead; lean on the rail and wait for Adam to leave before burying his head in his hands and trying desperately not to think about him dead.  
  
Major Nellis knew Adam. Her squadron had been quite interested in him at one point, though he wasn't aware. Like he wasn't aware of many things.  
  
She tilts her head and looks him over before nodding slowly.  
  
"Godspeed, sir."

 

= * =

 

David - Oh.  
Oh, David.  
  
David cries, and that just anchors something straining in his chest. He uses the curve of his thumb to stroke under his eye, pressing another kiss under the opposite one to catch a tear. the salt is enough to make him sigh, enough to fucking ground that _this is reality_ the that the ocean might swallow him. might keep him.  
  
It might not give him back.  
  
Pulling away is hell - and Adam resists creating that for a few moments more. He presses another kiss to his forehead and he. has to untangle. has to pull away. David resists as well though he. he seems to finally give in. give up?  
no.  
accept?  
maybe.  
  
Adam hears his soft proclamation of love.  
The fingers smoothing over the joints of his wrists, lingering upon pull away. His eyes would remain sharp behind the lens, though pained. jaw tense. his teeth ache. he shoves everything to prickle under them.  
  
“Love...you too,” he’d simply murmur back, the words far more sincere than he’s said it before. Weighted, heavy. If they were a last - he could rest easy with that. at least David would know, at least he would _know_ that Adam found something in him to cherish. something in him that he wanted to keep close, still wanted to keep close.  
  
would keep close.  
Adam climbs into the vent with a nod to Major Nellis and he can’t bring himself to look back. think back. he give into the urge to be selfish and turn back and pull David’s hands into his and tell him that _you’ll be okay this will be okay_ _  
_ _  
_ _everything will be okay._  
  
He can’t...promise any of that.  
As much as he wants to.  
  
He moves forward.  
He moves forward with a heavy heart.

He thinks he may have actually left it behind, this time.  
  
And maybe that feeling is a deadened, empty weight in which he has to carry.  
  
Adam slips down hallways, past bodies.  
Adam cloaks himself, creeps past twitching, human monsters.  
clawed fingers. gnashing teeth.  
  
_please stop it stop it stop it get it out dig it out dig it o-_  
  
Adam steps outside onto a platform and the building threatens to swallow the sky above. Black smoke plumes thick and pungent. The sky is burning, threatening to feather apart anything living. He is standing at the cusp of hell - no smother of ice water could cool it, now.  
  
His feet fall heavy as he approaches the elevator and looks at the glaring button. this is it. there’s no turning back.  
  
He.  
Finally does gather the courage to turn himself back towards the complex, the door. The wind howls, wraps, and whips around him.  
  
He is alone.  
Adam peers down into the writhing darkness below and it sobs. it sobs and it sobs and he can hear it plead and beg and beg. it reaches for him, greedily. pulls him down, in.  
  
Adam raises his hand.  
hesitates.  
and hits the button.  
  
The lift jerks under his feet,  
he watches the door behind him disappear from view. says a prayer for his heavy heart.  
  
He moves forward.

= * =

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the comments and everything! ;v;


End file.
